


Stubborn Love

by rhysndtrash



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 19:30:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8460220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysndtrash/pseuds/rhysndtrash
Summary: Nessian + "Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?"Or, in which Nesta lives in denial and Cassian is way too in love for his own good.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a lot of fun! I don’t know why, but writing Nesta just idk gIVE ME LIFE. i freaking love nesta and cassian okay fight me. Thanks blaire for the prompt, you’re the best, babe. Feedback is always really appreciated. Hope you like it!! :)

Nesta Archeron didn’t wake up in her bed that morning.

She knew where she was as soon as she opened her eyes, the clothes thrown all over the floor and the guitar at the corner of the room being clues obvious enough for her to decipher that particular puzzle.

Oh, shit. Not again.

She sat up, grabbing the blankets to her to cover her naked torso, and looked around again. The bedroom was simple: vinyl records were stacked against the wall—top to bottom—, there was a wooden table in the corner of the room filled with books and music sheet and a set of drum sticks, and posters of Tarantino movies were held against the wall. But nothing about that really grabbed her attention.

What finally shook Nesta from her daze, was the man sleeping next to her. Cassian.

They’d met a few years ago. Not that she was counting or anything, Nesta hated the guy. Which was kind of hard to reenforce when you were siting naked next to him, but, well, it was the truth. She hated his easy-going demeanor, and his soft eyes, and she definitely hated the way he looked at her when they were alone.

Carefully peeling herself away from him, Nesta stood up, gathering her clothes from the floor. She was about to leave when a sensual voice called, “Already leaving, sweetheart?”

She rolled her eyes, though he could not see with her back turned to him, and then blushed a little, realizing he had a full view of her backside. “Yes.” she bit out through gritted teeth. “And don’t call me that.”

“What, sweetheart?” he had his head propped up in his arm now. “But you are so sweet. And you have my whole heart, Archeron.”

She laughed—ironically, bitterly—and put her business skirt on, turning around with her eyes narrowed at him. “Montem, if you ever call me sweet again, I’ll wipe that Gods-damned smirk off your face.”

He chuckled—a deep, low grumble of his chest—, and—as she finished tucking the hem of her dress shirt into her black skirt—got up, not seeming to mind his own nakedness. She blushed deep red and cleared her throat, “I’ve got classes.” she said shortly, because she did not have to explain herself to him.

He got closer, until he was a hair’s breadth away from her and whispered into her ear. “Oh, but I’ve got so many ideas for how we could spend this morning.” he pulled her to him, a hand on her lower back, just above her ass, and the other burying itself on her hair as he kissed a line down her neck.

She sighed, relaxing into the touch for a moment, letting herself get lost in his soft touch before she pushed him away. “Off.” she warned, turning away again.

He laughed softly, walking back to the bed and throwing himself at it. “Your bad.”

With that, Nesta grabbed her leather purse from the living room couch and let herself out, “See you never, Montem.” she yelled over her shoulder.

 

 

Cassian had been somewhat in love with Nesta Archeron for a while now.

He was not sure when it’d started. He’d known her for two years, most of which she had spent bitterly bickering and making not-so-light threats to his safety, but he didn’t know exactly at which point she’d turned from the attractive literature-project-partner who always had too much to say to someone he actually enjoyed spending his time with. And when they were together, be it in bed—and Gods, they were spectacular in bed together—or studying for their joined class, it just felt right.

He was sure, though, sure that there had been a moment in which they had went from crude jokes and hisses to stolen glances and angry sex, though he could not pinpoint what it was. Maybe it was the way she always made sure he was ready for tests, even though their partnership was supposed to end with their project. Or maybe it was the fact that, even if she denied it with her last breath, she listened to him. Or maybe, it was just because she was so unapologetically her, with her messy hair and firm demeanor and the lack of a smile that told you she was not a morning person.

Either way, he found himself drawn to her, and when she had finally—finally—laid with him one day after they were arguing over something completely unimportant—and he’d closed the distance between them and kissed her right then and there and she hadn’t stopped him. Oh, no, she’d been the one to take off their clothes in fact—, he’d been over the moon. But the fact was, Nesta didn’t like him. She barely tolerated him. She was with him for the sex and that was it.

He didn’t think he could change that. It was too late to erase the years of being the exact opposite of what she thought a gentleman should be, and he wouldn’t anyway. Cassian was proud of who he was. Sure, he might not be a prince charming, or have a lot of money, or even be the most well-mannered guy around, but he was so much more than that. He could be funny and attractive and a hell of a guy.

But he would grab any piece of Nesta he could find.

And it was thinking about that that he came into her dorm—he’d already bribed Nesta’s roommate to keep out for another two hours or so—and stripped.

 

 

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” Nesta raised an eyebrow.

She’d come into her dormroom, expecting her roommate’s same old loud disco music that made her cringe every time she entered the room, and instead had found this; Cassian was lying on his side on her bed, face propped up on an arm, naked as the day he was born.

Cassian laughed seductively, caressing a place in the bed before him for her to sit. “I was waiting for you.”

“Oh, this is priceless.” she said bitterly, throwing her stuff at one corner of the room but not stepping any closer. “Get dressed, asshole.”

He pouted. “Don’t you want a piece of this?” he gestured to himself and the bed. “You certainly weren’t complaining last night.”

“Montem, if you don’t get your naked ass off my bed, I’m going to throw you out,” she ground out “And you’ll have to crawl back to whatever hole you came out from without your clothes.”

He laughed, but stood up, not bothering to gather his clothes as he went straight to her. “I like what you did with the place, Archeron.” he whispered in her ear.

She shivered, his voice sending waves down her body and straight to her core. He was so close to her, so incredibly close, and there was nothing separating them besides her black skirt and dress shirt. Nesta didn’t want to think about what she might do if she stayed within distance for much longer. “Thanks.”

“Except that The Perks of Being a Wallflower poster.” he laughed, taking a step back like he knew exactly the power he had over her. “What are you, some kind of hipster?”

She shoved him away then, whatever force that had worked its way into her instantly dissipating the moment the mockery went out of his lips. “Screw you.”

“That’s all I’m asking you to do, sweetheart.”

She fumed, glowering at him.

“I’ll have you know that that book helped through some very dark times.” she bit out. “As hipster-y as it may or may not be.”

“Oh, don’t be mad, Nesta.” he said. Oh, how she hated when he said her name. “We all have our guilty pleasures. Granted, I don’t usually display them on the walls, but…” and he stepped forward again, and forward, until she had her back against the door, tempting her with those muscles and, well, everything else. He whispered in her ear, “If you wouldn’t mind being fucked against a wall, I could easily change that fact.”

She wanted to scream at him, she wanted to hit him and curse him and throw him out of the room, but as he kissed the place where her neck met her shoulder, she did nothing but sigh and grab onto his hair, demanding more.

Nesta pulled his head up to kiss him deeply, passionately, and his hands made quick work of her dress shirt and bra. She shrugged them off, not breaking the kiss that felt like a long time coming, and pulled her hands from his hair to help her shimmy out of her skirt and underwear. As soon as she was as naked as he had been this whole time, she wrapped her legs around his waist, one hand coming up to cup his face and the other falling to his chest.

Cassian put a hand between them, caressing her breasts before falling to the pooling core between her legs. At the first stroke of his fingers she was lost in him, stuck in place by a force she didn’t even know and seeing colors she hadn’t known existed. Heat pooled within her as she moaned his name, moaned for him.

“Cass,” she got out, breathless. Something broke in him, because she never called him that, only when she was drunk in him, drunk in sex and loving and that light at the end of the tunnel. “Now. I need you.”

He didn’t need more incentive than that.

Cassian pulled his fingers from her and brought them to his mouth, sucking on them lightly, tasting her. Her eyes darkened.

He guided himself to her entrance and slid in, careful not to hurt her.

“Gods—” he breathed out.

She could barely breathe, barely think about anything but this moment, this man—who drove her crazy most of the time, but Gods—

They settled on a rhythm, one of Nesta’s hands buried in his hair once again, pulling at it for him to go faster, harder, deeper—and the other still nestled on his chest, seeing the rise and fall, feeling the beating of his heart.

Nesta moaned loudly as she came—loud enough for her neighbor’s to hear, she was sure, which was surely something she would regret later—and Cassian thrust into her, drawing out her pleasure until he roared his own.

They fell to the floor in a heap of limbs. It was cold, and they were naked, so Cassian got his jacket from where he had dropped it and covered Nesta’s already half-asleep body with it.

As she slept, he put a strand of hair that had fallen on her face behind her ear and said, “Nesta Archeron, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nessian + "You should be with me."

Nesta adjusted her skirt, pulling up her underwear, trying not to touch the narrow walls of the broom closet—which was comical, because she was spread against it just minutes before.

They’d done it in a broom closet. Oh, Gods.

She smoothed a hand down her clothes and cleared her throat, looking at Cassian. He was grinning at her. “What?” she said, as flatly as she could, trying to sound annoyed and disinterested.

“Nothing, nothing.” he answered, still grinning like a fox who’d gathered up their pray. “Just—has anyone told you you look beautiful all flushed and annoyed like that?”

“Oh, stuff it, Montem.” she flipped him off and turned around, sighing, gathering her strength to leave him there—with his charm and wits and good looks that certainly didn’t do her any good—, and go back to her Creative Writing class. Gods, she’d left right in the middle of class and ended up here. How had she ended up here?

Oh, right. She remembered. She’d found him near the library, sitting on one of those uncomfortable benches that made you want to stay standing more than anything else, playing his guitar—Gods, how she hatedthat, hated that he was a musician, hated all those girls fawning over him, hated his “cool” band—, and she’d tried to ignore him. Yet the moment he’d laid his eyes on her she’d know she would end up right here. She just hadn’t known here would be a freaking broom closet.

Nesta didn’t bother saying goodbye as she opened the door, checking to see if anyone was passing nearby, and got out of the cramped space, leaving Cassian behind to his own thoughts.

She couldn’t understand why she always ended up in his bed—or, well, other places, but that was another story entirely—, couldn’t comprehend why someone she abhorred so completely could seduce her so.

Maybe you don’t hate him as much as you say you do, a voice that sounded incredibly like Feyre said in the back of her head. She shook it off immediately. Of course she did. He made her so mad—so completely, irrevocably mad. She didn’t even know what to do with herself when she was with him; when they weren’t fucking, they were fighting, and when they weren’t fighting, well—she hadn’t given herself the opportunity of finding that out.

 

 

Nesta hated frat parties. Hated them as much as she hated the fraternities themselves, what with their drunk privileged white boys and kegs of cheap beer and crappy music, but it was Lucien’s birthday, and he was her sister’s boyfriend so she’d had to come.

She was standing by one corner of the big house on the west side of the campus, holding a cup of said cheap beer, siping on it lightly, observing as people talked and danced and drank themselves into oblivion. Elain was twirling gracefully to the music in Lucien’s arms, planting kisses on his face as she turned and turned, already a little bit drunk as her flushed face could tell. Feyre, Rhys and their friends were also somewhere around here, probably getting themselves into trouble, but that was not her problem—not when she already had Elain to worry about.

“Having fun?” someone sneaked up on her from her right, giving her a fright. Cassian. Of course.

“None of you business, Montem.” she said, turning her face to her sister’s dancing form once again. “Didn’t I tell you to stuff it once today already?”

“Oh, but the second time is so much sweeter.” his eyes gleamed as he smiled at her, willing her to look at him.

Nesta sighed, breathing in and out through her nose, and his scent, something like roses and the smell of rain, filled her head, intoxicating her. She had grown so accustomed to that smell. It was in her clothes, on her bed, in her pores. She shook her head slightly, finally turning around again. “What do you want, Cassian?”

“Nothing,” he leaned against the white, cold wall of the three story house and looked at her with something in his eyes she couldn’t quite comprehend. “Just—the pleasure of your company.”

“Ha!” she laughed bitterly at his face, and took a long gulp of beer. It felt too warm against her lips, but she drank it anyway. “And since when do you find my company so pleasurable exactly?”

“You’d be surprised.” he said evasively, that same look she couldn’t figure out shining through his eyes for a moment before he contained it.

Nesta rolled her eyes, but to her own surprise, said, “I don’t like parties like this.”

“What?” Cassian asked, taken aback.

“You asked me if I was having fun,” she explained. “And no, I don’t like parties like this. I’d much rather go to a bar or even a club, but frat parties are just—ugh.” she shivered.

He laughed, actually had the audacity to laugh at her, and put a hand on her shoulder. “What? Too many football players want to bed you?”

She shoved his hand off her shoulder disgracefully, “They wouldn’t ever be so lucky.” she said, somehow looking down at him, even though he was taller than her by at least a foot.

“Somehow I still manage to, though.” he leaned into her ear, voice dropping to a whisper that sent shivers down her spine. “And it’s not even that hard, Archeron.”

Nesta gathered all her strength to shove him away, and stalked off.

 

 

Cassian had been sulking by Rhys’ side—drinking enough shots of tequila to make any one of these drunk frat boys proud—for an hour before his friend decided he had to put a stop to it.

“Come on, Cass.” he said, pulling at his arms for him to get up from the stool he was currently in—a surprisingly stylish décor of the house’s kitchen counter—and turning him around. “Look—”

“What?” he mumbled, not really looking at anything at all.

“Just—look around, man. There’s plenty of girls here.” Rhysand started. “Girls who’d actually like for you to talk to them—”

Cassian laughed—actually laughed, and Rhys didn’t know if it was a good sign, if it was a sign that he’d finally gotten out of his funk, or not. He downed yet another shot, thankfully the last one. “You can stop there, Rhysand. I don’t need the whole ‘there’re plenty of fish in the sea’ spiel.”

“Fine.” he said. “But there are, you know. There are plenty of other fish in the sea.”

Cassian huffed and sat down again. There was a long silence before he said, “She’s never going to be interested in me, is she?”

Rhys didn’t know what to say to that. He hated himself for even introducing the two of them. Cassian hadn’t been this obsessed with her from the start, though, so rationally, he knew it wasn’t his fault. But that didn’t mean it made him feel any less guilty.

He clamped a hand on Cassian’s shoulder, sighing, and said, “I’ll get us the next round, okay? Just—stay there.”

Cassian nodded and went back to staring at the countertop, not really interested in anything in particular. He buried his head in his hands for a moment, telling himself to get out of this sorry state and enjoy the party, but he’s mood was already too ruined for that to work. He sighed, lifting up the shot glass in front of him and taking a gulp of its contents—or tried to, as it was already empty. “Fuck.”

“Hard day?” a voice said from his right. Cassian turned around as a lovely redhaired girl sat down on the stool next to his, a cup of beer in her hand. She was smiling at him, a smile that held none of the malice and aggression Nesta’s smiles did, and he startled, dropping the glass in his hand. It fell to the floor with a CLANK! “Oh, I’m sorry! I din’t mean to sneak up on you!” she apologized, even though it wasn’t her fault, and, as he stood up and tried to gather up the broken glass—too drunk to know any better—she grabbed his hands. “Are you hurt? I’m not a doctor or anything but I can patch you up.”

He was, in fact, bleeding a little, but what astonished him was that this girl, this girl had been so nice to him and apologized and offered to help him and yet—and yet all he could think of was Nesta.

But then he thought about what Rhys had said, about how he should look around, look and see the people around him and appreciate them, and he decided to take the plunge.

“Yeah, I think I cut my finger,” he said, smiling his most charming smile. “Could you take a look?”

 

 

Nesta was getting another beer at the crowded bar when someone tapped her shoulder. Rhysand.

Oh, great.

“Nesta.” he nodded at her in greeting, passing through the gaggle of frat boys and getting to the beer she wanted so badly like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Well, that’s not fair.” she said as he came back, holding two cups of cheap beer.

“What?” he asked stifly. What was with him today?

“I’ve been waiting to get a beer for at least ten minutes and you just barge in here and get some like it’s, I don’t know, easy to go through them?” she pointed at the group gathered around the bar.

“Well, maybe you should try being a little warmer to people, Nesta. That will do wonders for you.” he said, not exactly unkindly, but there was nothing, to put it in his own words, warm about his voice at all.

“What’s with you, Stella?” she asked, annoyed. “Did my sister finally kick you off her bed?”

Rhysand rolled his eyes at her. “I have to go find Cassian, if you don’t mind.” he said, not looking at her. He turned around, but said over his shoulder, “And I don’t think you mind, after all, he’s just sex to you, isn’t he?”

Oh, Gods.

Oh, Gods. Cassian had told him they were having sex? Who else had he told? Did Feyre know? Oh, Gods, oh, Gods, oh, Gods.

Nesta followed Rhysand, all thoughts of getting a beer forgotten. What did he mean, he was just sex to her? It was the same thing the other way around, too. Right? If it weren’t, Cassian would’ve told her long ago. And anyway, there was no way he felt anything other than lust and hatred for her, the only thing they ever did was fuck and fight, and there was no changing that.

Rhysand stopped at the kitchen counter, where there were a few empty stools and broken glass by the floor. “Cass?” he said to no one in particular. He turned around, looking for him, “Cass?” he said it louder this time, but still there was no response. Then, seeing her, he murmured, “What do you want, Nesta?”

“I want to talk to Cassian.” she said as nonchalantly as she could, and put her hands on her hips.

“I think he’s had enough of your shit for tonight, okay?” he snapped at her and she startled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I just think it’s best—”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think it’s best, Rhysand.” she snapped back, now truly annoyed. “I’ll go look for him myself if you don’t want to.”

Rhysand sighed, swiping a hand through his hair before saying, “No, let’s go.”

 

 

They found Cassian on one of the rooms on the second floor of the house. He was sitting on a four poster bed while a girl wrapped his hand in bandages.

The girl was pretty. She had wild red hair and silver eyes and legs that went on forever, something that Nesta, being what her sister usually described as a tiny ball of anger, had always wanted and never got to have.

Cassian was talking smoothly to the girl while she tended to his hand and, as Nesta approached, the girl pressed a kiss down on it.

Nesta snarled.

All eyes turned to her, but she held Cassian’s glaze in her own as she moved closer. She didn’t even know what that had been, what had made her behave like that, but something told her if that female didn’t take her hands off Cassian right now she would rip those silver eyes right off her face.

“Cass, mate, we were looking for you!” Rhysand said, albeit awkwardly.

Cassian moved from the bed, still looking at her, and stood up, clearing his throat. “We were just—”

Nesta didn’t wait to find out what he was going to say. She had to get out of this room, this house, this planet. She didn’t want to look at his face anymore. Why did it hurt so much? She didn’t even like him.

She got three steps past the door before she realized Cassian had followed her.

“What is up with you tonight, Archeron?” he asked exasperatedly.

She rolled her eyes dramatically at him, making a show of it, but her mouth felt like ashes and her heart had burned away. She didn’t know the answer to his question, that was what she would like to say. But she had never been straight with Cassian, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. “Nothing.” she sighed. “Just—go back to your little date.”

“Is that what is upsetting you?” Cassian said, laughing a little. “Archeron, are you—are you jealous?”

She growled at him, shoving him away from her before she realized what he’d said.

She was. Nesta Archeron was jealous of him dating other girls. But—but she didn’t even like him. Did she?

He must’ve seen the realisation on her face because he opened his mouth to say something. But this was too much, all too much, and she couldn’t take it. She ran to the nearest empty bedroom, locking the door and crumbling to the floor. Oh, Gods. When had this started? How had she not realized this sooner? And how had she not put an end to it?

They would never, ever work. She knew it, knew it in her heart. So why bother feeling this way?

For the first time in years, Nesta wanted to cry.

Then, there came a knock from the door.

“Nesta?” Gods, why did he have to say her name like that. “Nes, please let me in.”

“Don’t call me that.” she snapped, trying to sound annoyed but failing as her voice broke a little.

Cassian laughed. “Nice to know some things don’t change.” she heard the sound of his head leaning against the door. “Please let me in, Nesta. I just want to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you, Cassian.” she bit out. “Go. Away.”

He sighed through the door, putting both his hands on it before saying something so quietly she couldn’t understand. She was almost curious enough to ask him what he’d said but then, a full minute later, as if he had needed the time to gather up his courage and strength, he said, “You should be with me.”

“What?”

“I said, you should be with me, Nesta Archeron,” he said it louder this time, and he must’ve been making quite the scene in the hall talking to a door, but she didn’t care about that, didn’t care about anything as he said, “Because I love you and I can’t bear to live another day without you by my side.”

And yes, they were so wrong for each other—so wrong in so many ways. He was always making stupid jokes that made her want to punch him in the stomach and she was serious and firm. He was charming and cool and always knew what to say and she didn’t even like going out to places where she didn’t know the people around her. They would be a mess together.

But maybe, maybe he could be the light to her darkness. Maybe he could put a song in her heart the same way he did with his guitar. Maybe—maybe this could actually work.

So Nesta opened the door. Opened her heart.

And kissed Cassian Montem with all she had.


End file.
